Chapter Fifteen
Elizabeth paced the length of her bedchamber.
The conversation with her mother earlier that day had left her deeply unsettled.
She had seen Mamma agitated before, of course.
Her mother had been desperate to have all the Bennet girls married as soon as anyone eligible offered, but all of that had vanished when they arrived at Hollydale.
Now, her insecurities had been reignited.
It was a terrible dilemma. Was it wise to ask Mr. Darcy to leave when there was a thief on the property? The thief had not entered the house, and they had discovered where the items were being hidden—but they had yet to lay eyes on the perpetrator, nor did they know what he truly wanted.
On the other hand, could she keep Mr. Darcy in the house when her mother was so fraught with anxiety over his presence? Mr. Darcy was the most honourable man she knew—but there was no convincing her mother of anything when she was in this state of mind.
A soft knock at the door startled her. “Come in,” she called, composing herself.
Mrs. Riggs entered. “Miss Bennet, your mother asks that you attend her.”
Elizabeth sighed and nodded.
The housekeeper did not retreat. “Miss Bennet, I thought you should know that your mother is quite distressed. She is mumbling and wringing her hands. Nothing I could offer for her comfort was acceptable to her.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Riggs,” Elizabeth said as her heart sank. “I will go to her at once.”
She found her mother in her chambers, pacing much as Elizabeth herself had been doing moments before. Mamma was not wearing her matron’s cap, and her hair, always meticulously arranged, was coming loose from its pins. Her eyes darted nervously to the door when Elizabeth stepped inside.
This was appalling. “Mamma,” Elizabeth said, approaching her slowly, “perhaps you should sit down. You look pale.”
Her mother threw up her hands. “How can I sit when everything is at risk? Your future, the future of this family, your father’s happiness?”
Papa’s happiness? What an odd thing to say.
“Mamma, please,” Elizabeth implored, guiding her mother to a chair. “You are working yourself into a terrible state. Mr. Darcy is not—”
Her mother did sit, but gripped Elizabeth’s hands. “Men like Mr. Darcy, they are used to having what they want. And what he wants is Hollydale. Mark my words!”
They had already had this conversation, and as her mother continued to ramble, Elizabeth felt a growing sense of alarm. It was not only the content of her mother’s fears that worried her, but the intensity of them. She had never, never seen her mother like this.
“Mamma,” she said, “I promise you, I shall not allow anything to happen to Hollydale or our family. Not even Papa. But you must try to calm yourself. This cannot be good for your nerves.”
“Oh, Lizzy, I have not felt this way in an age!”
A few months. But they had been important months.
Her mother began to pace. “I cannot help it. If we lose Hollydale, what will become of us?”
Elizabeth embraced her mother to hold her still. Her own eyes were stinging. She did not know what to do to comfort the trembling woman in her arms. “We will not lose Hollydale, Mamma. I swear it.” She had to allay her mother’s fears and prove Mr. Darcy meant them no harm. But how?
Once she convinced her mother to take a drop of laudanum in her tea and rest, Elizabeth went in search of Mr. Darcy.
He was still in his sister’s sitting room, so she went downstairs to seek distraction.
She was sitting with an unopened book on her lap, staring out the window, when Mr. Darcy entered the parlour.
“Miss Bennet,” he said, “might I have a word?”
She set aside her book, nodding. “Of course, Mr. Darcy.”
He approached her and took the chair across from her before leaning forward and saying in a quiet but distinctive tone, “I have just spoken with Georgiana, and she recalled there were two men in the bookshop discussing Hollydale—and me. She could not hear the substance of the discussion, but she said your mother was certainly within earshot, and that this may be why her behaviour towards me has altered.” He paused, his eyes searching her face.
“Miss Bennet, has your mother said anything to you?”
Elizabeth hesitated, torn between loyalty to her mother and the need for honesty with Mr. Darcy. “She has expressed some concerns about your presence, yes.”
Mr. Darcy frowned. “I see. Well, I intend to speak with the shopkeeper, to see if he knows who these men were.”
She nodded, but her heart was heavy. “Mr. Darcy, I agree we must investigate. But I fear that in the meantime . . .” She took a deep breath, bracing herself. “I think it might be best if you and Miss Darcy were to leave Hollydale for now.”
Mr. Darcy’s countenance paled. “Miss Bennet, surely you do not believe—”
“No,” she said reassuringly, “I do not believe you have any ill intent. But my mother is terribly distressed, and I fear for her health if you remain.” She set her book aside and said, with all the helplessness she felt, “I can think of nothing else to do. She has written to my father, and I shall send a letter of my own today. I expect we will have a response shortly. You are both welcome here even after he returns, of course, but for now—I must ask you to leave until I can convince Mamma that you mean us no harm.”
For a long, terrible moment, Mr. Darcy was silent, his expression stoic and entirely unreadable. At last, he nodded. “If you believe this is for the best, we will depart tomorrow.”
Relief and regret washed over her. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy. I am sorry it has come to this.”
He managed a polite nod. “As am I, Miss Bennet.”
She watched as Mr. Darcy stood from his chair, and for a moment, she found herself foolishly hoping that he might linger.
Though she had tried to remain practical, to push aside whatever feelings were blooming between them, the truth pressed in on her now with painful clarity.
She cared for him. She cared a great deal.
When their eyes met, the careful mask he wore faltered for just a heartbeat, and she caught a glimpse of the turmoil beneath his calm exterior.
She was not alone in this yearning. Somehow it did not assuage her feelings to know that he suffered too.
Mr. Darcy had taken her words with grace despite the way they must have pained him.
The silence between them stretched on, and she suddenly wished she could take it all back.
“Miss Bennet,” he said at last, “I cannot let this matter rest until we have found the truth. Please do not ask it of me.” His gaze lingered on her for just a moment longer, and she again felt the pull between them—undeniable, and yet, had he wished to act upon it, he would have.
“I am grateful you remain willing to help,” she said, her voice just above a whisper. “If it is a matter of gaining my consent to continue your investigations, please know that you have it.” She could not bring herself to say anything more.
With a final nod, Mr. Darcy turned and made his way toward the door. Elizabeth’s eyes followed him. She wanted to call him back, to explain again that it was not her who wished for him to go, but her throat tightened, trapping the words inside.
The door closed softly behind him, and Elizabeth stared at the space where he had been, her mind filled with wishes that would not, could not be fulfilled.
Had her connections been higher, or his lower, perhaps .
. . But it did not matter. For whatever reason, he had not desired to deepen their relationship.
And even knowing this and that she had done what was right for her mother, Elizabeth could not shake the feeling that the decision she had made was terribly, painfully wrong.
The next morning, Darcy stood in the courtyard with Thompson and his other men, puffs of frozen air accompanying each order he issued.
The men rubbed their hands together and huddled close, away from the prying ears of the servants who were loading their trunks and all of Georgiana’s new purchases on the carriage.
“Gentlemen, I cannot stress enough the importance of your vigilance in my absence,” Darcy said, glancing at each of the three men.
“Thompson, I want you to maintain a close watch on the property. Pay particular attention to any unusual activity near the boundaries or in the woods, and if you must hire more men to guard the house, you may do so at my expense.” If Mr. Bennet wished to repay him, Darcy would discuss it with him at a later date.
The older man was no match for him in stubbornness.
Thompson nodded, his eyes narrowed and his jaw set. “Yes, sir. I'll keep extra men on patrol, day and night.”
Thatcher and Freedman joined them as Darcy was responding. “I will go to the bookshop and speak with the owner.”
“You cannot ask around in town yourself, sir,” Thatcher said. “You will scare him off for sure. Freedman will stay here. I will go to town.”
Darcy hesitated, but Miss Bennet had given him her leave to continue the investigation, so he felt within his rights to give orders to Thatcher and Freedman.
“Understood. Visit the bookshop, then, but the other shops as well, the taverns—anywhere people might gossip. If you hear any more rumours or insinuations, inform me at once.”
Thatcher nodded. Miss Bennet must have spoken with him, for he accepted Darcy’s authority. “Of course, Mr. Darcy. I'll be discreet, but thorough.”
He turned to Freedman. Thatcher was not a large man, though he was strong and canny.
Freedman was like a tall stone wall. It was not possible to be discreet when one was Freedman’s size, but intimidating would work just as well.
“Freedman, while Thatcher is away, you must be responsible for both the women.”
Freedman grunted his assent. It was enough.
Darcy's voice dropped even lower. “And all of you, keep a watchful eye on Mrs. Bennet. Her concerns are at the heart of this matter. If her agitation increases, if she says anything that might shed light on the situation, or if there is anything I can do for her comfort, I ask that you send word to me at once.”
The men exchanged a glance before nodding solemnly.
“Remember,” Darcy added, grinding out the words, “the safety and well-being of the Bennet ladies is our utmost priority. Whatever is going on here, we will uncover it. I must return to Pemberley for now, but I expect daily reports. Use the fastest horses.”
As he finished speaking, the front door of Hollydale opened. Georgiana emerged, followed by Mrs. Bennet and Elizabeth. Darcy watched as his sister embraced both women, noting the unrestrained affection in the gestures.
“And gentlemen,” Darcy said quietly, his attention back on Thatcher and Freedman, “Mrs. Bennet must not know the extent of our concerns or actions. You may, however, apply to Miss Bennet if need be. Is that clear?”
“Clear. Sir.” Thatcher sounded put out.
“I know I am preaching a sermon you all know by heart,” Darcy said by way of an apology, “but take my insistence as a sign of my worry. I cannot like that I have been effectively removed from the house by a man who was positioned just within Mrs. Bennet’s hearing.
I promised to look after Mrs. and Miss Bennet, and that is what I mean to do, even if I cannot be here myself. ”
Thatcher’s expression softened a bit at this confession, and he exchanged looks with the other two men. “You can count on us, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy’s nod was terse. “I thank you.”
He stood straight and turned to greet Georgiana, whose eyes were bright with unshed tears.
“Are you ready, dearest?” he asked, offering his hand to help her into the carriage.
Georgiana nodded, casting one last look at the Bennet women. “Yes, though I shall miss them terribly. I was hoping to spend more time with Miss Bennet this week. Fitzwilliam, are you certain we must go?”
Darcy's expression softened. “For now, yes. But I promise we will return soon.”
As he helped his sister into the carriage, Darcy caught the eyes of Thatcher and Freedman over her head. His gaze was intense, a silent reiteration of his orders and the gravity of the situation. The men straightened, and they each offered him the slightest of nods.
Darcy climbed into the carriage, and as the door closed behind him, he allowed himself one last look at Hollydale and its mistress.
Elizabeth stood on the steps, her arm linked with her mother’s, her expression denoting regret and something else—something that made Darcy's heart quicken despite the circumstances.
For in her countenance he caught a glimmer of regret and a softness that seemed meant for him. It was fleeting but unmistakable.
There was a connection between them that transcended their current predicament.
For a moment, Darcy forgot to breathe, struck by the realization that his own growing affection might not be one-sided.
As the carriage pulled away, that glimmer of hope spurred his determination to resolve the mysteries surrounding Hollydale and return to her as soon as possible.
The carriage jerked forward, and he smiled at his sister and settled back into the squabs. He might be leaving Hollydale, but he was far from giving up. Whatever threat loomed over the Bennets and their estate, he would defeat it.